


Mice for Fenton

by TalkMagically



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ableist Language, Angst, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 21:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 11,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12466732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalkMagically/pseuds/TalkMagically
Summary: Humans are becoming more and more aware of the Supernatural. Sam has discovered a group of doctors who want to study the causes, effects, and treatment of PTSD on supernatural creatures. Seeing an opportunity, Sam convinces Lucifer to volunteer. (Loosely based on Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes)





	1. Report 1

**Author's Note:**

> This piece also comes with a lovely piece of art, created by Lux-Tuli. It is available for viewing at https://lux-tuli.dreamwidth.org/28902.html.

Progress Report 1 - March 3

I have no idea why I’m bothering with this. I told Sam this experiment isn’t going to work on me, but he insisted I volunteer. Apparently it’s some new kind of PTSD treatment for non-humans. The doctors involved need to figure out which species it works for. Professor Miles insists on regular reports to track our ‘emotional progress’ throughout treatment, whatever that means.

I will admit, to Sam, that this experiment holds promise for the lesser beings. Their physiology is similar enough to humans to work. But it’s too dependent on physical anatomy to work on an angel -- or even demons, for that matter. How does one use such treatment on a being that holds no physical form on this plane? We inhabit the bodies of others. We do not have our own.

I’ll need to remember to mention that to Sam later.


	2. Report 2

Progress Report 2 - March 4

Oh, dear Father, they actually made me take a Rorschach test today. And I couldn’t help myself. I had to fuck around with the little weasel of an assistant that Professor Miles had administer it to me. What’s the point of being the literal devil if I don’t take advantage of such opportunities?

Right off the bat, I can tell this young man is what humans call a ‘Born Again’ Christian. The many flavors of that religion amuses me to no end. It’s an endless cycle of humans going “We’re all right, but I’m righter” to each other.

Anyway, the assistant must not have read my file ahead of time because he was quite talkative as soon as he walked into the testing room. He was exuberant over the chance to meet a real, living angel. Couldn’t stop talking about how he was looking forward to helping us all develop “healthy coping techniques.” He was livelier than a new puppy that pees all over your kitchen floor when you come home from work.

That is, until he opened my file.

I knew the moment he read my name. The color drained from his face and made him look colder than a corpse. I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit to the smirk that then grew on my face. Had Sam been there, he probably would have attempted to stop me. Probably.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, knowing damn well what was going through the young man’s mind. He’d been blindsided. Just found out he had drawn the short straw for patients. Most likely didn’t even know I was one of their many non-human volunteers before that moment, the poor bastard.

That’s hardly the worst of it, though. Inkblot after inkblot, I got  _ creative _ with my descriptions. Some were actual things I saw during my time in the Cage. Others were things demons have done to others in Hell; I loved the slightly green tinge in the man’s face when I claimed to see something Alastair once did in one of the blots. Eventually, though, I got bored and let my imagination wander. Gabriel, the little shit, would have been proud.

I stopped being so accommodating, though, when the assistant’s jaw went stiff after my descriptions turned sexual and I made the suggestion that one of the blots was giving me ideas for the next time Sam and I had alone time. The man could hardly understand why I suddenly stopped giving him answers. However, I wasn’t going to waste my time lecturing. Just one of the many reasons I can’t stand most humans.

I made sure Professor Miles knew to never let that assistant be alone in a room with me again.


	3. Report 3

Progress Report 3 - March 5

Sam wasn’t too happy with how I treated the assistant, so he came with me to my meeting with Professor Miles today. Spent a good ten minutes ranting and apologizing to the Professor for my ‘behavior’ and that I would absolutely never do it again because I ‘knew better than that.’ It took Professor Miles bursting into laughter for Sam to see the amused looks we were giving him. He gave us a bitch face after that.

“Lucifer is hardly the worst volunteer I have, Mr. Winchester. Compared to others, he’s an absolute angel.” I gave the Professor a bitch face of my own for using that pun, but I couldn’t fault him for taking the opportunity when he saw it. After all, I’m the one who taught Gabriel everything the little shit knew. Sam wasn’t entirely placated by Professor Miles’ assurances, but it was enough to make Sam shut up for the rest of the meeting.

As I expected, the Rorschach test was pointless. Mostly. Professor Miles and his research partners didn’t expect to receive any real results from the first round of testing. It was more about seeing how we all handled a psychological testing environment than finding out what we saw in the ink. “There’s no psychology textbook for supernatural creatures,” the Professor had explained. “We’re doing this entire study blind. For all we know, we’ll do more damage than good.”

It felt weird reassuring a human who wasn’t Sam, but I had to. Nothing is worse than the millenia I spent in the Cage. All the testing in the world would never compare. So I told Professor Miles that. He needed to understand what he was up against by accepting me as a volunteer. To borrow a human expression, it would take a miracle from Father for human-designed treatment to help me after everything I’ve experienced. Especially when you consider the fact that it wasn’t human-designed torture that I went through.

As soon as we were out the front door of the office building, Sam mentioned how nice it was of me to reassure the Professor’s doubt over the study. Just as I expected him to do. Sam was such a bleeding heart.

“He might have been joking around, but Professor Miles wasn’t wrong. I’m an angel,” I pointed out. Only for Sam would I repeat such obvious details. But it was clear I had to explain further because the look on Sam’s face said he didn’t understand. “Sam, my Cage-worthy sin was refusing to love humans more than my Father. Not for refusing to love humans, period. Professor Ash Miles is a good man.”

I don’t think Sam thought I’d admit such things.


	4. Report 4

Progress Report 4 - March 6

The staff seemed to learn their lesson from last time because I was given a new assistant to work with today without having to remind anyone of the note in my file regarding the last one. This one wisely kept her mouth shut on any personal details after she entered the room and remained solely focused on the test. I bet it’s because this test was actually going to mean something. When you’re shown pictures of people interacting and are asked to form stories about them during a psychological test, damn straight the results will matter.

I tried pushing the woman a few times with jokes and comments, but she was good at maintaining a deadpan expression. I even considered asking her if she was Michael at one point, but I knew my only older brother wouldn’t be participating in studies like this. Michael loves humans, as we were told to, but that doesn’t stop him from seeing humans as being beneath him like most of our siblings do. Michael wouldn’t deign to work with humans, even if it was towards a mutual goal.

I wonder if Father realizes the irony in me being one of the few angels who’s willing to work with humans and give them the chance to show their potential. Me, the most feared angel among the human populace.

After story time with the new assistant, I was sent to an upper level of the building to spend time in the animal laboratory with some of the other volunteers. It was a prelude to future group therapy. They wanted us all to do a meet and greet before assigning groups so any potential hostile interactions are identified ahead of time. They may be testing us all blindly, but at least they’re being smart about it.

“Hello, Lucifer,” Professor Miles greeted me, giving me a look that said he noted how I was lingering by myself over by the animal cages.

“I’ve maimed many of the other volunteers here, and killed many of their friends and family,” I rambled out as a reminder. “I hardly think most of them are going to be friendly towards me.”

“Be that as it may, we still need to find out which of them will maintain civilities with you. Please try.” I resisted the urge to say ‘Do or do not, there is no try’ to the Professor’s back as he walked away, but it would have given him more fuel to scold me with.

That was when I turned my attention to the animals in the room. It amazed me that animal psychology was a thing when humans were still understanding their own, but here they were with several cages and tanks worth of animals.

“Some of us are getting therapy animals, apparently,” a voice spoke up. I turned to look and couldn’t believe who stood in front of me.

“Azrael. I was told you died.”

“Many have. No idea why. Lucifer, I’m surprised to see you here. I know you were released from the Cage a second time, but I expected you and Michael to continue on with your squabbling.”

“Sam got to me first,” I supplied without any further explanation. It wasn’t wrong, but it avoided the elephant in the room regarding my and Michael’s relationship. I refused to fight further. Michael was adamant about fulfilling Father’s prophecy. There was only so much I could do to hold off Michael without getting others involved, and the Winchester Brothers offered the best option. Running into Dean at a diner in Missouri before Michael had the chance to catch up with me was probably the luckiest day I’ve had since I was brought into existence.

“Sure,” Azrael said. He didn’t push. “If you’re lucky enough to get an animal, any hopes for a specific one?”

“I should get a snake. The bitch face I’d get from Sam would be worth it.” I couldn’t stop the smirk growing on my face.

“There’s a ball python that’s been getting ignored by the others. Fenton, I think. You’d probably get him if you asked.”

That one sentence from Azrael was all the motivation I needed. Professor Miles was more than happy to hand over Fenton, with his tank and care instructions, before I left for the evening.


	5. Report 5

Progress Report 5 - March 7

I don’t know yet how Michael found me here, but I am livid. He hijacked a session Professor Miles was holding with a different patient and interrogated the Professor for answers on my whereabouts. I cannot blame the man for giving in, though. Michael knows how to get what he wants once he decides to add his personal touch to the problem.

“Be happy he didn’t turn the whole office building into a slaughterhouse,” Sam reasoned while we sat in the bunker, listening to Michael slam himself against the main entrance. The sigils against undesired angelic entry were working far better than expected.

“That does little to help us at the moment. How do we deal with my temperamental older brother without him trying to kill me on sight?”

“Dean’s almost back from town. He said he’d attempt to speak with Michael once he gets here.”

“Fantastic,” I said. “Our lives are dependent on your brother’s ability to use his reasoning skills to calm my own brother. We’ll be dead by nightfall.”

“You should be more grateful. That Dean is bothering to stand up for you at all after everything that happened at Stull Cemetery means he’s offering you an olive branch. You should offer your own,” Sam chided.

“Dean and I have reached our agreements. None of them include mollycoddling each other.”

That earned me a bitch face and stern silence. I can hardly complain about the cold shoulder, though. It gave me the chance to think over our situation without Sam interrupting my train of thought with well-meaning comments about needing to play nice with my family.

Dean going face-to-face with Michael wouldn’t have been my first choice. There’s a reason why Dean is Michael’s True Vessel, and it’s not just related to the Winchester Bloodline. They’re both more stubborn than a pair of asses. One of them trying to convince the other of anything is the physical manifestation of an unstoppable force hitting an immovable object. Father had a twisted sense of humor sometimes.

“I’ve agreed to take on a therapy animal,” I said as a distraction.

“Is that why you haven’t let me enter your room all evening?” Sam asked.

“I’ve been letting Fenton get used to his new surroundings before introducing new faces.”

“He’s not a cat, is he? Dean’s allergic.”

“Don’t worry,” I placated. “I wouldn’t bring a cat into the bunker unannounced.”

“Thank you,” Sam said.

“Fenton is a snake.”

The bitch face was definitely worth it.


	6. Report 6

Progress Report 6 - March 8

Professor Miles could barely look me in the face when I arrived for the first official group therapy session of the study. I’ve yet to find out what Michael actually did to the man the day before, but part of me probably doesn’t want to know. The Professor is still alive and intact. I shouldn’t press my luck any further.

“Before we start with the redundant introductions, let’s make sure we’re all on the same page in terms of the rules,” one of the assistants spoke up once everyone was settled into chairs. “You all have volunteered for a scientific study on the causes, effects, and results of extreme trauma in beings whom most humans would call ‘supernatural’. We want to learn if you can be treated. Regardless of the human label we give to whatever each of you has, from anxiety to PTSD, we want to learn if you can be treated. To learn that, we need you all to work with us as much as we work with you.”

“Your one-on-one sessions have shown that you all are more than willing to work with us,” another assistant continued. “What we now need to know is if you’re willing to work with each other. Working with us requires you working with each other. During our group sessions, we will not tolerate any form of attack. Not verbal. Not mental. Not physical. Group sessions are not successful unless it’s a group effort. You all must be willing to help each other for these to work.”

“I understand many of you have several reasons to hate each other. Several of you probably even want to kill each other for past transgressions,” Professor Miles admitted. “I’ll accommodate as best as I can by changing group attendance lists around once we break off into smaller groups, but group sessions are a requirement for the study. I can’t let any of you skip them completely. The most I can do is to keep incompatible volunteers in separate groups.”

I kinda tuned out after that. Pretty basic rules. ‘Behave, or else.’ Easy enough to follow.

My mind wandered off to Sam as my fellow volunteers went on with their aptly-named redundant introductions. It was a large group. I had time before all eyes turned towards me.

Once he got over his bitch face last night, Sam near about talked my ear off about my decision to take on Fenton. Well, nagged is probably a more accurate term. I think the words ‘reputation’ and ‘stereotype’ were included in there somewhere, but I can’t recall at the moment. I was more concerned about why Michael had suddenly gone quiet at that time. Sam didn’t stop until Dean had returned inside, either, so it was at least a good half hour of Sam lecturing me on picking an animal based on the kinds of reactions I’d be getting instead of the connection I made with it.

“I think everyone here already knows who I am, Professor,” I spoke up when the woman next to me was done talking. “Or are we going to conveniently overlook how your ‘kill each other’ comment was mostly directed at what everyone else wishes they could do to me?”

“I have Sam on speed dial. I would be more than happy to call him for you to have him sit in on the rest of the session,” Professor Miles replied.

“Extortion? Honestly, Professor, I’m impressed.”

A few of the assistants snickered under their breaths as the Professor continued to give me an exasperated look. I decided to cool it for a little bit.

“Everyone, I’m Lucifer. Yes,  _ that _ Lucifer. I’m sure we’re all going to have great fun placating the staff here. And no, don’t take this as an opportunity to ask me questions that you should know I won’t answer.”

“See? Painless,” Professor Miles shot before turning to the next person. I gave him a smirk and receded back into my thoughts.

Group sessions were going to be interesting in the coming weeks. Here’s hoping Michael doesn’t decide to interrupt one of them.


	7. Report 7

Progress Report 7 - March 11

Thank Father for the small miracles because clearly life wouldn’t be possible without them.

Some of my fellow volunteers were more willing to play civil than I originally thought, so the small group I was assigned to for future sessions is bigger than expected. Azrael is in it, too, but I think he specifically requested the placement. Partly out of curiosity for why I volunteered in the first place. Partly out of loneliness. He and I are the only two angels in the entire study, and Azrael has already told me he is unable to communicate with our sisters and brothers as often as he would like. That is a line of inquiry that I am leaving alone.

Adjusting to taking care of Fenton has been a smooth process, save for the freak out Dean had when he first saw Fenton.

“What in the Sam Hill is that?!” Dean screeched the moment he stepped into the kitchen. I had to pause what I was doing to see what Dean was even looking at before replying. Dean’s eyes were on Fenton, who was bundled on the kitchen table.

“ _ He _ is Fenton, a ball python. He’s harmless,” I said before returning to setting up my tea kettle to boil.

“What is he doing here and why is he on the kitchen table?” Dean pushed, keeping his eyes on Fenton.

“Participants in the study Sam made me volunteer for were given the chance to take on a therapy animal for the duration of the study. Fenton was mostly ignored outside his basic needs being addressed by the laboratory staff, so I offered to take care of him. Is it a problem?” 

“No. I just… Wait, you are willingly taking care of an animal? Like, they didn’t force it on you for this research study thing?”

I sighed as I sat at the kitchen table, picking up Fenton so he could be a bundle in my lap instead of a bundle on the cold table surface.

“Yes, I am  _ willingly _ taking care of an animal. Neither you nor Sam are allergic to snakes, so I didn’t see any issue,” I answered.

“I didn’t think you were the type,” Dean admitted, finally going back to whatever he planned to do in the kitchen.

I’m going to be getting statements like that all the time now, aren’t I? Sam has been a horrible influence on me. I have been more than happy to play along with the reputation the humans had given me over the millennia I sat in the Cage the first time. The last thing I need is to start changing it. Not that I have much say in the matter when it comes to the researchers involved with the study. They’ve all been taking rotating shifts for our one-on-one sessions, and I’ve met with most of them now.

My reputation has been damaged, no doubt.

March 12

How lucky am I to no longer have to do a full progress report each time I do a journal entry. I only need to hand in my collection when I see Professor Miles, which is once a week. I guess he’s overwhelmed by receiving so much paperwork on a daily basis, even if it is digitally.

It looks like I found yet another self-righteous researcher on the team who doesn’t know how to keep their mouth shut. I was barely ten minutes into my one-on-one session today before the woman began tearing into me about Hell and the Garden of Eden. Honestly, I barely registered anything she said after I heard the words ‘How dare you’ escape her mouth. Her voice was annoying, though, so I got up and left after fifteen minutes of her ranting.

March 13

The woman from yesterday has been banned from interacting with me. Not at all surprising. I was planning on mentioning it to Professor Miles at the end of the week, but Sam threw a hissy fit as soon as I told him what happened and he immediately called the professor despite my protests. I’m beginning to wonder when I became the sensible one in this relationship.


	8. Report 8

Progress Report 8 - March 16

Professor Miles has started to become more aggressive with treatment and prescribed me anxiety medication a few days ago. I must take it daily because I need to maintain a ‘level’, for whatever reason, but it is already making me feel funny. Everything feels...slower. How it’s affecting me while I inhabit Nick’s former body is beyond my comprehension at the moment. I’ll have to research the connection between Grace and Host to find my answers.

Today I had to retake all the tests I took during my original one-on-one session with the Born Again Christian. It was the Deadpan Champion from my test early last week, on the 6th, but she wasn’t channeling Michael anymore. She was more friendly and actually smiled as we discussed what I saw in the inkblots. I think she may have been there when Michael interrupted Professor Miles’ session with another volunteer. Seeing the stark differences between me and Michael would easily cause most humans to favor being around me. Hell, it worked with Dean.

I took pity on her and actually answered like I was supposed to. Of all the researchers I’ve interacted with so far, she’s certainly my favorite.

March 17

“Stay home. Get some rest. Continue adjusting to the medication. We’ll catch up next week.”

Professor Miles’ voice kept echoing through my head as I bundled with Fenton on a chair in the darkened library. I had to call in to get out of my small group session today. The medication has continued to make things feel slower than they should be, and it has caused a significant migraine today. The professor promised to change the medication or stop it all together if I don’t adjust by next week’s small group session, but that does nothing for me at the moment.

“I have your tea for you. Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?” Sam said. I jumped slightly at the sound of Sam right next to me. I hadn’t heard him enter the library. What is this medication doing to me?

“I’m fine, Sam. I’ll eat later this evening, with you and Dean, once you two return.”

Sam frowned at me. Every fiber of him screamed that he wanted to remain here in the Bunker instead of going out on a job with Dean, but it was an extremely short job and I insisted. The last thing I need is for Sam to feel guilty for being a mother hen because Dean died on what should have been a cakewalk.

“I updated Cas on why you’re still home and to call in case anything happens. He’ll be here in the library doing research, so just ask if you need any help,” Sam said.

I could practically taste the tension from what Sam didn’t say. My younger brother, Castiel, was the only angel around who had immediate access to me. If anything happened, he was the only one capable of even doing anything.

“I’ll be fine, Sam. Just go.”

Sam leaving with his signature puppy pout of worry didn’t help my migraine in any way.

March 20

“Where were you the other day? You missed our small group session,” Azrael said as soon as I walked into the office building.

“Were you seriously waiting for me down here in the lobby?” I refused to stop walking just to talk. I wanted to get up to the labs to continue on with the one-on-one sessions so I could go back home as soon as possible. Professor Miles had already agreed to do a blood test on me today to figure out why I’ve continued to get a migraine every single day.

“You’re the only other volunteer here who’s family, Lucifer. Of course I want to know as soon as possible what’s going on,” Azrael said, following me closely.

I remained silent as we entered an elevator and headed up to the interview offices used for the one-on-one sessions. Castiel is the only sibling I’ve been around for extended periods of time lately. Interacting with the others, even close ones like Azrael, was awkward.

“I’m reacting to the medication Professor Miles is giving me,” I broke the silence once we left the elevator. “I’m only in here today so they can figure out why.”

“How about you just stop taking it? Surely there are other forms of treatment they can use with you.”

I had to stop to give Azrael my hardest ‘Are you really that stupid?’ look. Usually I reserve it for Dean’s rare moments where he forgets something completely obvious, but Azrael proved that I should be making exceptions.

“There are only so many ways to treat anxiety, especially when PTSD is involved. I trust Professor Miles to know what he’s doing.”

“They outright admitted to doing all of this blind!” Azrael insisted.

“Back off, Az. I mean it. If I feel that they’re going down the wrong path, then I’ll insist they do something different. Until then, trust that Father wouldn’t actually let the humans do anything so tremendously stupid as to kill us because we wanted to help them understand us better,” I spat back.

Without a retort from Azrael, I spun on my heel and continued on to my appointment. I was probably the last person Azrael expected to be standing up for Father. The stunned look on his face said it all.

This study isn’t going to get any easier, is it?


	9. Report 9

Progress Report 9 - April 1

It has been a while since I have been able to do a report, but Professor Miles was fine with verbal ones every time I saw him.

“Your blood work keeps coming back completely normal in relation to the original one we did at the start of the study. We have no idea why you keep getting migraines. We’ve adjusted your medication enough that there should have been a change by now,” the professor explained. He’s giving me a week to detox before attempting a different medication.

Today, though, has been a tough one. Sam and Dean have been behaving around me because of the constant migraines, but that hasn’t stopped them from pranking each other since the clock turned to 12 am last night. The constant mischief has been a sore reminder of Gabriel.

“Has your research on the connection between Grace and Host developed any further?”

I looked up at Castiel, frowning when I realized that I, yet again, hadn’t heard someone enter the room when I was in it. I need to tell Sam that they all need to start making more noise when one of them is sent to check in on me.

“Hardly,” I replied, sticking a bookmark in the book in front of me and closing it. The table I was at was covered in books and papers dating back to when writing was first invented. “Nothing here is helping. Unless I can get my hands on a way to contact Father, I don’t think I’m going to get the answers I need to help Professor Miles figure out what’s happening to me.”

“You said before that Azrael is also a volunteer. Has he not had similar reactions?” Castiel asked.

“He’s refused to take medications of any kind, so I’m the only angel in the entire study taking any.”

“How odd, considering he should have had more nobler reasons to volunteer than you did. That would have made him more open to the doctors’ suggestions.”

I stared at Castiel’s back as he left the library.

April 6

I am fully detoxed from the anxiety medication, but now the professor wants more baseline tests done. This unfortunately includes almost every kind of procedure known to him, from more extensive blood tests to full body CAT scans and MRIs. It will be a busy week for me.

April 13

I ran into Azrael while I was leaving an independent session with Professor Miles to go over all the full body scans he did. Castiel’s parting comment from the beginning of the month immediately came to mind.

“You are constantly skipping your group sessions, young man,” Azrael chided with a grin, keeping step with me as I left the building.

“Professor Miles wants to focus on the migraines right now, so he’s removed me from the schedule for group sessions until further notice,” I replied. I don’t know why I’m giving Azrael excuses. I don’t owe him an explanation. I just feel...compelled.

“Scans? He’s giving you scans, now? Come on, Lucifer. You’re really buying too much into this crap.”

I froze in place, turning to give Azrael a cold look.

“Azrael, it is beginning to sound like you do not think Professor Miles and his staff are doing anything of import,” I said evenly.

“They’re humans. Hairless apes, remember? They’re not going to find anything important. Ever,” Azrael replied. “This is all just a game to keep them amused until they give up. Humans aren’t capable of understanding the supernatural. Surely you, out of all of us, understands that the most.”

I felt my face turn to stone as I continued to stare at Azrael. Castiel was right. Had Azrael been in the study to truly help the Professor, taking medications never would have been questioned. Azrael would have taken them, just as I have.

“I think you have come to make some assumptions about me because of the few millenia I spent in the Cage,” I began. I really didn’t know how to finish my statement. There was too many things I wanted to say right now, to rip into Azrael for the amount of time he’s wasted in the study, but my mind couldn’t focus on any single one for more than a fleeting thought.

“Come on, Luc. You know it’s true.”

“But I am not going to address them right now,” I continued loudly, ignoring what Azrael said. “I have errands to run before returning home, and I would rather finish them before nightfall.”

I began walking away, leaving Azrael where he stood.

“What could you possibly have to do that’s so important?” Azrael called out to my back.

“Sam’s birthday is in a couple weeks. I need to order his gift,” I yelled over my shoulder, refusing to turn around and look Azrael in the eye again. He said nothing after that.

I pulled my jacket closer, realizing the light mist of rain actually made me feel cold. What on Earth was going on with me?


	10. Report 10

Progress Report 10 - April 14

I’ve given up on the Grace/Host connection. I’ve hit every dead end possible. There isn’t any more material on the matter that I could look up. I have, however, moved on to researching the human soul. Nick’s soul is no longer in this body, so my continued existence in it is a bit of a technicality in terms of consent of its use. Nick never took away permission.

Consent of a human host is not my focus, though. How the human soul acts as a buffer between an angel’s Grace and the physical body is. I no longer have that buffer and cannot confirm nor deny that lacking Nick’s presence is why I’m being affected by the medications Professor Miles wishes to give me. It’s a complex issue that I hope to shine some light on. I originally thought I could not be affected by things on the human plane because my ‘being’ still exists in Grace form. Now I’m not so sure.

Having input from Father would be great right about now.

April 16

I got a papercut today. 

Normally, this wouldn’t mean anything. Except that my natural healing ability didn’t kick in and Sam had to show me how to use a band-aid to stop the bleeding. I don’t know which of us was more freaked out by the occurrence, but we’re both unsettled by the experience. It shouldn’t have happened.

April 17

Professor Miles has been unsettled by the continued lack of results from all the testing we’ve been doing.

“Lucifer, all of these results so far are ones I’d hope to see in a perfectly healthy human. I don’t understand. None of this is making any sense. There is nothing that says you should have had the migraines you had for as long as you had them. According to the results, you’re not even allergic to the ingredients in the medication.”

“So where do you go from here, Professor” I asked.

“Without answers, I cannot say for sure what the best option is. We’ve hit a plateau. I certainly want you to return to your designated small group sessions, and continue with your one-on-one sessions with Debra, but I am undecided at the moment on whether or not we should have you test any other medications. PTSD is not a cookie-cutter health issue, and I’m beginning to see it’s worse for non-humans. Give me a week and I’ll have some suggestions for you on what we could do next.”

This is just getting better and better. I understand the Professor’s reluctance to do anything more because he has no set treatment plan to test with all us volunteers. But to have no inkling of an idea in mind and needing a week to consider options? Not a good sign.

I need answers.

April 19

I spent most of my day with Fenton in the library. I should set up a bed in the library. I’m in here enough to warrant turning it into my bedroom. I don’t think Sam would appreciate me ‘moving out’ of our bedroom, though.

“Sammy says he hasn’t seen you since breakfast. What’s going on?” Dean spoke up, breaking my attention from the tome I was reading.

It focused on the interaction between a human host and an angel’s Grace, especially once consent was only a technicality. Remind me to thank Michael later for killing Anna. She would have been a great place to start, despite how different her own circumstances were. Anna was able to grant consent for her own body. Here I was, in someone else’s without on-going consent keeping me in. It is mind boggling, to say the least.

“I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, Dean. It’s taking a lot more time than I’d hope.”

“Ain’t that the point of the study, though?” Dean spun a chair around to sit on it backwards as he took a seat across the table from me.

It’s odd being on such familiar terms with Dean. Perhaps another thing to thank Michael for. I am no ‘angel’, pardon the pun, but at least I never manipulated the Winchester brothers like Michael and Zachary did during the botched apocalypse.

“I volunteered for Professor Miles’ study because they want to learn how to treat mental and emotional issues in non-humans. What I experienced in the Cage makes me a prime volunteer, as Sam has stated multiple times,” I explained. “However, I’m reacting to medications in an unexpected way. I’m inhabiting this body, but I shouldn’t be affected by anything done to it because of my Grace. Consider it like my consciousness being disconnected from my body despite being in control of it.”

“If you’re reacting like a human, are you sure you’re not turning into a human? Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve come across angels that had weird reactions during the process.”

I stared at Dean for a few moments, causing him to shift in his seat uncomfortably.

“Professor Miles did say all my results so far have been ones he’d hope to see in a healthy human…” I trailed off. I turned my eyes back to the tome to relieve Dean of my stare, but I wasn’t seeing the pages in front of me.

“I don’t know what kind of research Cas and Sammy have been doing with you, but perhaps you’re focusing on the wrong side of the problem.” Dean stood up and left, having finished his brotherly duties of checking in on me for Sam.

This was a completely different direction that I had been avoiding, but Dean outright saying it made that impossible now.

I was turning human.


	11. Report 11

Progress Report 11 - April 21

I have passed along Dean’s observations to Professor Miles.

“Lucifer, I’m taking you out of the main study to focus on you as a singular case. Lord only knows what’s wrong with you, and I’ll need to dedicate a lot of time figuring it out. My assistants will have to take over as leads on the mass study,” the Professor said. He acted flustered at the sudden change of plans he was forced to make, constantly readjusting the papers on his desk.

“Yes, he would know what’s wrong with me,” I replied. The Professor stopped fiddling with his papers to give me a sheepish look, but I waved off the unspoken apology. “But we cannot depend on Father to help us find out why this is happening to me. We’ll have to work on our own, as he intended.”

“I’ll start with trying to find other angels who have already been turned into humans. Sam and Dean were helpful in finding volunteers for this study, so I’m sure they’ll be just as helpful finding your siblings for questioning. However, I don’t want you finding any on your own. With you turning into a human, there’s no telling how they’ll react once face-to-face with you. You cannot protect yourself the same way you could before.” I was given a stern look that said I was to follow those orders to the letter.

I was tempted to remind Professor Miles of who he was talking to, but that could be addressed later. For now, I’ll behave.

April 24

Fenton hasn’t been too keen to be around Castiel lately. It’s been confusing me. When I first brought him home, Castiel was the only other one in the whole bunker who could hold Fenton. It proved beneficial when Fenton needed something while I was away at a one-on-one or group session. I could trust Castiel to follow instructions when caring for the snake.

Now, however, he’s bitten Castiel as least four separate times in the last week. Not only that, but Fenton has also been more willing to be handled by Sam and Dean than he was before. I’ve given up asking Castiel for assistance. It’s almost like Fenton was replaced with another snake.

April 27

“Lucifer, you seem stressed today. More so than usual. What’s on your mind?” Debra asked.

I took a few moments to study her face, but the micro expressions that used to be so obvious to me before were gone. Her body language no longer gave me hints on where she was planning on taking this line of questions. Not a good sign. The only positive aspect I can think of is that it’ll give her more genuine responses from me.

“Michael’s trying to get to me again. Whatever Dean said to him last month to keep him away hasn’t lasted.”

“Did Dean ever tell you the details of that discussion?”

“No,” I shook my head. Come to think of it, I don’t remember ever asking. I know Sam did. But I didn’t. Why did I trust Dean so much to not question what he said to keep Michael away? “I never asked. At the time, I was angry with Michael for his visit here at the labs. I don’t think it ever crossed my mind to wonder how Dean talked Michael into staying away.”

“Do you think Michael’s motivations for coming into contact with you have changed in any way since his discussion with Dean?” I almost wanted to roll my eyes into the back of my head. Almost.

“No. Michael has always followed Father’s orders to the letter. That means killing me because he failed to do so back in Stull Cemetery.”

“Yet he listened to Dean and stayed away for the last month.”

Father damn it. There’s no way on Earth that Michael allowed Dean’s request to supersede orders from Father. I need to find out what happened last month when Dean confronted Michael.

April 28

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lucifer,” Dean said, continuing to walk away from me. I should have expected resistance.

“You said something to Michael that made him stay away for the last month. I just want to know what it was!”

Michael was slamming himself against the main door of the bunker again. I could barely hear myself think because of the noise.

“Lucifer, it was nothing important. It obviously didn’t work as well as I hoped, anyway,” Dean replied. “Just hope he doesn’t damage the sigils and breaks in.”

“Fuck this,” I snapped, turning on my heel and heading straight for the main door. I heard Dean’s footsteps behind me once he realized I wasn’t behind him anymore.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked with a tone of worry. Sam wasn’t in the bunker, so it wasn’t like Dean had much available to keep me in check.

“What does it look like I’m doing, Dean? I’m going to go talk with my big brother.”

“Are you crazy?! Don’t be teasing him like you’re a carrot dangling in front of a rabbit. He’ll break through the sigils, for sure,” Dean said.

“I am going to talk with my brother and that’s final,” I snapped back.

“Sammy’s gonna kill me,” Dean mumbled under his breath, keeping step with me as I neared the front door.

The banging was almost overwhelming at the door. I could no longer hear Dean behind me as I stood in front of the wooden door to watch it vibrate with each smack Michael made against it from the other side.

“Michael!” I yelled.

The immediate silence was equally as deafening. My ears rang from the sudden loss of noise, and I half wondered if the banging was still going on but had made me deaf. It wouldn’t be the first human-related injury I’ve had the last few weeks.

“Michael,” I repeated, partly to check that he was still out there and partly to check my own hearing.

“Lucifer,” Michael called through the door. A light thump told me he had placed a hand on the door. “I never thought you would be one to hide behind humans.”

“As if I’m going to willingly bring on  _ death _ , Michael. That’s why you’re here. To finish what you failed to do at Stull.”

“Father said…” Michael started, but my irritation flared immediately.

“What Father said doesn’t matter anymore! The apocalypse is over! And in case you haven’t noticed, Father isn’t around much at the moment!” I yelled back.

I received silence.

“Michael, I’m not...well. I am not in a place to be exchanging rhetoric with you on why you should or shouldn’t kill me.  Just leave.”

“Lucifer,” Michael began again.

“Just  _ leave _ , Michael,” I snapped.

More silence.


	12. Report 12

Progress Report 12 - May 2

Sam’s birthday is today. He and Dean are out-of-town on a hunt. Castiel went with them.

I do believe this is the first time since my arrival at the bunker where I am totally alone here.

May 8

I don’t notice anything anymore. Not like I could before. Having the senses of an archangel makes one capable of seeing and hearing things humans do not even realize are happening. But all of that is gone now.

I think I’m fully human now. There’s no other explanation. I can feel my Grace bound inside my chest like a bowling ball was left inside me during a botched surgery, but I am unable to access it. I am unable to get it out.

Sam insisted I go into town with him, citing multiple excuses like ‘stir craziness’ and ‘cabin fever’ making me unbearable. I didn’t see any reason to argue. It wasn’t like there was much I could do in the bunker. There was nothing in all the research I did that could help me turn into an angel again.

“Giving you caffeine is probably the last thing I should be doing, but you need something stronger than tea,” Sam said as he placed a coffee in front of me. It looked like a cappuccino, but I couldn’t be sure. None of the names of coffee drinks made any sense to me.

“I doubt it will do the damage you think it will, Sam,” I replied before taking a sip.

“I was talking about getting you addicted to caffeine right away,” Sam laughed.

Addicted. I had forgotten such things happened to humans. I understand Sam’s hesitation, then. It’s going to take me some time to adjust.

May 11

“If you really are fully human, then I should switch over to tried and true methods of treatment for you,” Professor Miles said as he wrote down notes in the thick binder he had dedicated solely to me. “How has it been with you taking care of Fenton?”

“Taking care of him is something to keep me distracted. It’s been strange seeing him switch preferences from my brother, Castiel, to Sam and Dean. I stopped letting Castiel handle Fenton after getting bit a few times.”

“Have you spoken about Fenton’s personality changes with the assistants in the animal lab?”

“A couple times, yes. They say it is nothing to worry about yet. Snakes are snakes and will attack when they feel threatened. I have no idea why Fenton thinks Castiel, of all people, is a threat, but I have been following the assistants’ advice, regardless. I keep Fenton’s contact with Castiel at a minimum,” I said.

“When did the change happen?” Professor Miles pushed. I may not be an angel anymore, but I notice a specific line of questioning when I see one.

“It’s only been a few weeks. Perhaps around or shortly after you had me detox off the anxiety medications.”

“And when you started to notice human characteristics popping up,” the Professor finished, as if I had let my answer trail off.

“What are you saying, Professor? Fenton is reacting to my change?”

“Possibly. He’s connected to you. Before, he behaved when handled by Castiel because your brother is another angel. Now, Fenton is preferring to be around Sam and Dean when you are not home, which shows he’s changed from wanting to be around angels to wanting to be around humans. The variable that is changing here is you, not Fenton. Fenton is changing with you.”

I really need to learn to stop being surprised by things.


	13. Report 13

Progress Report 13 - May 15

Michael and Azrael were waiting for me outside the office building today when I left my one-on-one session with Debra. Despite him being completely expressionless from my point of view, my gut was saying Azrael was, to use a human phrase, scared shitless. He was probably bullied into being here by Michael.

“Are you really going to kill me in the middle of public?” I asked, looking Michael in the eye.

“No. I am not going to kill you, Lucifer,” Michael answered.

“Then what could you possible want with me that would require bullying Azrael into joining you here?” Azrael’s gaze immediately moved away from me, telling me I was right.

“Why are you helping the humans with this study of theirs? It is not like they are going to gain anything truly of value from what little results they are collecting,” Michael said.

If I still had my wings, their feathers would be ruffled right now.

“Why am I helping the humans?” I repeated with an incredulous look on my face. “Michael, you of all of us should know that this is what Father would have wanted. He did not tell us to love the humans without reason. We may not know that reason, but helping them in their endeavours is an act that shows how much we love them.”

“You are hardly one to preach about loving humans, Lucifer,” Michael spat back. His stone-like expression became stonier. Which is a phrase I cannot believe I have to use to explain how I noticed that change in his face.

“Oh, Michael,” I said. Playing along with the argument seemed best at the moment. It kept Michael talking instead of acting. “You were the one who threw me into the Cage. You know I wasn’t thrown down there for refusing to love humans. I only refused to love them more than our Father.”

“You are certainly more sentimental about them than I expected,” Michael said.

I gave my older brother a smile, knowing it would piss him off. I didn’t trust him enough to be honest about not killing me in public, so if I was going to die then I was going to die as the biggest thorn in Michael’s ass since Gabriel.

“What happened?” Azrael spoke up, interrupting me and Michael. I turned to look at him and gave a look that said ‘Go on.’ “Lucifer, you’re different. I know it’s been some time since I last saw you in one of the meetings, but you’re not the same. Something about you is...off.”

Michael eyed me up and down as I let out a heavy sigh, wondering which of us was going to be answering Azrael. I knew when Michael realized what was going on when his eyes returned to my face.

“How did this happen?” Michael asked. I’d like to think a mild look of horror was on his face, he is my brother after all, but I continued to see no emotion coming from him.

“I have no clue, Michael. That’s what I have been trying to figure out. Your repeated harassment has been of no help,” I said before turning to Azrael. “I’m human.”

“Bullshit. I can feel your Grace from here, Lucifer,” Azrael insisted.

“It is bound up inside him. He cannot access it,” Michael answered for me. “Are you sure you have no answers as to what caused this?”

“Michael, I live in a Men of Letters bunker! I’ve gone through dozens upon dozens of books and tomes trying to figure out why this happened. I have nothing.” I sighed again, not being able to prevent the look of utter helplessness I gave Michael. “I have  _ no  _ answers, nor do I have any hope of getting any anytime soon. Are you  _ happy _ ?”

I walked away, sure now that neither of them would follow me. Everything in my chest began welling up and I needed to calm myself down before calling Sam or Dean to come pick me up. That wasn’t something I wanted to explain to them over the phone.


	14. Report 14

Progress Report 14 - May 21

Professor Miles is such an understanding man. He truly is too good for the rest of them. I haven’t stepped out of the bunker in a week. I have missed multiple meetings. But it is all too much. It’s just too much.

As an angel, I was capable of controlling my emotions and not letting them get the best of me, but that’s not possible as a human. I wanted to yell, and scream, and cry at Michael last week when I had him in arm’s length. I wanted to shake him to make him understand everything I went through while in the Cage, to make him understand what it felt like to have my Grace cut off from the Host. What it felt like to have siblings standing right in front of you but not feel the literal connection we all had with one another. To feel the emptiness inside because of that missing connection.

I can’t help but think back to what it was like when it was just the two of us, before Father created Raphael and Gabriel. Michael and I explored so much of Father’s Creation together. I remember thinking my big brother was infallible and could fix anything, like Father could.

That’s one thing that, irritatingly, isn’t turning human. My memory. Had it changed, then I probably would have already forgotten all of that by now. I don’t want to remember what it was like before my Fall. It hurts.

May 24

“Have you even asked Father for help?”

I gave Castiel a dead look as my hand hovered over the puzzle I was working on. Sam was really getting desperate with finding ways to keep me occupied.

“Of course I have. I have prayed to Father many times. But I’m not one that Father is going to respond to with any urgency,” I replied. I set the puzzle piece in the location it belonged and began looking for another piece.

“If Father has had no issue with you no longer being in the Cage, then I do not understand why he would not help you with something that is out of your control,” Castiel continued.

It was like what I said went in one ear and out the other. How can I phrase this nicely?

“Castiel, for all I know, Father is the one who did this to me. Why? I don’t know. But there’s nothing to be done about it at the moment. I just need to adjust and move on, really.”

“But Lucifer.”

“No,” I interrupted. “I need to adjust and  _ move on _ . There’s no forcing Father to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“Cas has a point there, Lucy,” Dean spoke up. I sighed and rolled my eyes at the nick name before turning to look at him. What were they doing? Ganging up on me?

“What point is that, exactly?” I asked.

“Maybe you can’t get any help from dear, ol’ Dad, but we should start asking around if there’s anyone else available who’ll know what to do. An archangel without any angel powers ain’t in the best position. Last thing we need is for you to die because you did something you didn’t realize was dangerous for humans,” Dean said.

“Thank you, Dean. I didn’t know you cared,” I replied with a touch of sarcasm.

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “As irritating as Sammy finds it to keep you in line, you, as the archangel you are, happen to be one of the best assets we have. The family business of saving people and hunting things is far easier when we have someone who can cover our asses. You can handle things that give even Cas an ounce of trouble.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said. “I am not promising you anything, Dean, other than to think about it. In case you forgot, trust is a deep-seated issue with me.”

“Just let us look.”

I gave Dean a glare that said I was done with the discussion and returned my focus to the puzzle in front of me.

Did I really want to let them waste their time trying to find someone who would attempt to help but would fail? Not really.


	15. Report 15

Progress Report 15 - June 8

Having Sam badger me the last few weeks has been a new form of Hell.

I couldn’t let myself let them waste their time, so I told Dean to drop the idea of finding someone who could help. He was understanding when I spoke with him about it. He probably saw something in my face. Dean can read a person’s body language better than most.

But Sam. Sam is making it clear that he cannot and will not accept ‘no’ as an answer. If I wasn’t already hogging the library, I would probably expect him to do the research behind my back anyway. It doesn’t seem to matter to him how many times I say there’s no one other than my Father who is capable of ‘fixing’ me. Sam insists I try.

I need to find a way to make Sam back off. I am barely holding on, myself. It’s bad enough that Professor Miles has admitted defeat in his attempts in helping me. I think my time with him and his assistants is nearing an end. I probably shouldn’t bother with the journal entries anymore for the rest of my time in the study.


	16. Report 16

Progress Report 16 - June 20

I gave up today. I didn’t know what else to do. The lump in my chest where I feel my Grace bound up has turned into a dull ache that has no end in sight.

It’s the middle of the week, so I knew I would have privacy when I entered the Catholic church in town. The priest was having his weekly dinner with the town’s other religious leaders in the Main Street Diner, so I had the place to myself for hours. Not even the janitor cleaned on Wednesday evenings.

“Why?” I said up to the statue of Jesus Christ looking over the pews. I slowly made my way up to the altar, falling to my knees at the bottom of the steps once I got there.

“Why? I do not understand. Why? Why must I go through this? Please, just give me something. Anything,” I begged.

I felt an emotional ball in my chest well up as tears began to stream down my face. I let out a harsh breath to try to keep everything in, but I couldn’t do it any longer. I burst into body-shaking sobs where I knelt. Father was never there to provide answers before. I don’t know why I expected anything different now.

I don’t know how long I knelt there sobbing, but I had nearly completely exhausted myself when I felt the hand suddenly appear on my shoulder. Still unaccustomed to not always being able to hear when someone enters a room, I was startled and jerked away, stumbling on my hands and knees as I turned around. I winced when my right wrist began throbbing from my awkward movements on the short stairwell.

“Who are you?” I snapped. The last thing I needed was someone who was familiar with the supernatural to recognize me and try to kill me when Sam and Dean didn’t know where I was. I wasn’t exactly capable of defending myself properly yet.

“Are you okay?” the man asked with a sad smile. Great. A civilian who’s showing me pity. The second thing that I absolutely don’t want to be dealing with right now.

“That’s not an answer,” I pointed out as I stood up. I rubbed the tears off my face with a sleeve as I stared the man down, waiting for him to reply.

“I heard you outside. I wanted to check in on you,” the man continued as if I hadn’t spoke at all.

I took a few steps backward, up the stairs, until I felt the altar right behind me. Something was off. I couldn’t tell why, but my gut was telling me this man wasn’t human. I gripped at the edge of the altar with my hands and mentally began praying to Michael with a sliver of hope that he’d get here before anything happened. I hadn’t seen him in over a month, but I’d be damned back to Hell if he wasn’t paying attention to the ‘Angel Airwaves’ when his name came up. He’d come running once it registered that I, of all people, was praying to him for help.

“I’m fine,” I answered slowly. What more could I say without knowing who the hell this man was? “You can go now.”

“I don’t think so. Not yet.”

The man gave me a wide berth as he walked up the stairs and around the altar to approach the statue of Jesus Christ, paying no mind to me turning to make sure he remained in my line of sight.

Where the hell was Michael?

“Michael’s not coming,” the man suddenly spoke up. “He can’t hear you. Your praying isn’t leaving this building.”

I took a few steps backward again, this time in panic. There weren’t many angels capable of hearing a human’s prayers that weren’t directed at them, let alone block the prayers from reaching the intended recipient. I wasn’t sure I wanted to come face-to-face with most of them. I wasn’t exactly on good terms with the majority of my siblings. But I knew I wouldn’t succeed if I tried to turn and bolt for the door. Whoever this was would beat me there before I could blink.

“Listen, I don’t know who you are, but I will completely forget this entire interaction if you let us go our separate ways,” I rambled. I tried to take a few more steps away, however it was like my feet were cemented in place. They wouldn’t move. I bit my tongue to prevent myself from outwardly showing how frantic I was becoming.

“Lucifer,” the man said softly. He turned back to face me and made his way back around the altar to stand in front of me. He gave me another sad smile as he held a hand to the side of my face like I’ve seen many parents in town to do their young children.

Like...parents do to their children.

The utter terror in my stomach was quickly replaced with horrifying realization. The man -- Father -- held his other hand up to the other side of my face as I processed what was going on.

“Lucifer,” he repeated. “I’m so sorry. There’s nothing I can do that could possibly make up for everything you have gone through. Nothing.”

“Father,” I let out. I felt like I was going to start sobbing again. I hadn’t even realized more tears were streaming down my face until Father wiped them away.

“I should have come sooner. I should not have let you get this bad,” Father said.

“Why did this happen?” I barely managed to ask. I had so many things I wanted to say, wanted to ask, that I hardly knew where to start. Asking why I had turned into a human was an easy option.

“It was supposed to be a lesson to help you learn what it means to be human. To appreciate what they go through. But Azrael, Michael, and Castiel are not the only ones of your siblings who know of you volunteering for Professor Miles’ study. Others found out and were going to use this as an opportunity to attack you. They wanted to finish what Michael didn’t at Stull Cemetery,” Father explained. “They  _ had _ planned on attacking in the next few days, but I have already taken care of that.”

“What now?”

Father gave me another smile and caressed the side of my face. A moment later, the lump in my chest burst. Time sped back up for me. I could hear every creak in the church as it slowly continued to settle into its foundation. I could feel Father’s essence right in front of me.

My Grace had been released.

“I need to speak with Michael about what has happened in the Host during my absence, but I will be back to continue this discussion, Lucifer. I promise,” Father said as he drew his hands away and took a step back. “I was gone too long. Things need to be put back into order.”

Father was gone before I could say anything to stop him from leaving.


	17. Report 17

Progress Report 17 - June 23

“I never expected to be saying this is Satan, of all people, but it’s been great working with you,” Professor Miles grinned. I snorted in amusement.

“You’re irritated because Father fixed me when neither of us could,” I pointed out.

“Kinda hard not to be jealous of  _ God _ , Lucifer. He’s able to heal with a single touch. He’s capable of doing things we mere humans are unable to comprehend. I’m just glad he reverted you back to your angelic state.”

Professor Miles signed a form that lay on the desk in front of him before passing it to me. I was released from the study.

“Father tends to make many people jealous, not just humans,” I admitted. “Nothing else you can do but move on.”

“Exactly,” the Professor agreed. “You are more than welcome to come back whenever you wish, Lucifer, if you need someone to talk to. Debra and I would be happy to find time to fit you in one of our schedules.”

“I’m not sure Sam is going to be letting me out of his sight for a while. This entire experience has been hard on him, as well. He didn’t like not being able to help. I’m going to have to heal the wounds to his ego considering he’s the one who pushed me to volunteer in the first place. I’ll keep that in mind, though,” I said.

“Now, one final thing. If you want, you are allowed to keep Fenton. The lab techs say you’ve been taking excellent care of him and it’ll be beneficial for him to stay with an owner who can give him attention.”

“I think I’ll do that. It’s fitting for my image. I got a reputation to repair,” I said with a grin.

“I believe it,” Professor Miles replied. “Doing anything interesting with the rest of your day now that you are free from your therapy sessions?”

I pondered on the question for a moment. I was alone in the bunker until later this evening and I didn’t really have much to keep me occupied anymore outside of taking care of Fenton. Speaking of, he needed to be fed tomorrow.

“I’m going to go get some mice for Fenton.”


End file.
